Tag Archives: outer space

Maybe a promising direction for future work, or maybe a very lonesome cul-de-sac…I mean, it’s really simple, I guess, but I can maybe see things in it that aren’t there for people who can’t see what I’m seeing. Anyway, it’s … Continue reading →

Believe it or not, there was a totally grown-up and professional reason why I drew this. Seriously. I mean, it’s nice when doing parody becomes sort of a legit job. Even though, at the moment, the job’s a secret project … Continue reading →

Here’s some disclaimer type of stuff that I ought to mention real quick: the inspiration for this design for Chet Lester’s 1962 classic space anthology is from the actual, non-imaginary paperback cover for William Tenn’s The Human Angle, which was … Continue reading →

Um, so I guess the title of this post is the title of the sketch, although the title could also be “Moonbot Mowing His Moon Yard.” Which I guess is mostly the same title, so, whatever. Anyway, if it wasn’t … Continue reading →

Words I Like

The way you drop is like a stoneMaking out you're flyingBut you've just been thrown.

—The Jesus and Mary Chain, "Drop"

There was a book in the library about Holland. There were lovely foreign names in it and pictures of strangelooking cities and ships. It made you feel so happy.

—James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

In fact, while we read a novel, we are insane—bonkers. We believe in the existence of people who aren't there, we hear their voices, we watch the Battle of Borodino with them, we may even become Napoleon. Sanity returns (in most cases) when the book is closed.

Is it any wonder that no truly respectable society has ever trusted its artists?

—Ursula K. Le Guin,Introduction,The Left Hand of Darkness

"What are my dreams?"

—Jerri Blank

Being a famous artist in the Culture meant at best it was accepted you must possess a certain gritty determination . . . .

—Iain M. Banks,Excession

"I hope you will consider what I arrange, but be skeptical of it."

—John Berger,Ways of Seeing

Some sort of pressure must exist; the artist exists because the world is not perfect. Art would be useless if the world were perfect, as man wouldn’t look for harmony but would simply live in it. Art is born out of an ill-designed world.